Washing It Away
by MakorraFangirl123
Summary: Korra cleans and heals Mako's wounds. Makorra.


A/N: I've had this idea for a while. I wanted to write it before book 3 but I wasn't sure it was the right time. But now it is. Enjoy babes.

It didn't matter what kind of job Mako would get. He's a fire bender. He's going to get burned. In many ways.

One of those ways was being in a motorcycle chase and having some stupid bastards, shoot fire when you're behind them. Mako got too close to where they could get him, and knock him off his bike, and leave his partner to be burned into the other side of the street. He didn't know if he was dead or knocked out cold when he shouted his name repeatingly, and the only response he got was the sound of his bike's motor slowly dying down beside him.

When the flames met his skin, the feeling was at first harshly cold, and then quickly became burning with singing heat. His arms and back and legs starting to become familiar with the agony once again. And then he heard sirens.

She liked air temple island. But for the time being, she had a small apartment, hidden in the city. She was hiding in some ways. But she did like the cool quiet privacy of it. Some times he would visit to just check up on her. Today, was much different.

"You got knocked up pretty bad out there sergeant.", the medic said in the infirmary at the station. He was trying to convince Mako to let him disinfect the burns, but Mako was stubborn to the point.

"It's nothing. I've had worse.", he scoffed with a grin.

"Yeah, I've heard it all.", the medic said shaking his head. "Well if you won't let me fix you up, anyone at home who can?"

She immediately came into his thoughts. Although it wasn't his place some may call home, but she was.

"Yeah. I just need a ride. Mine's being repaired from the wreckage.", he explained.

"Eh, you're the last one today. I'll take ya.", the medic offered.

She was sitting on the cheap sofa in her living room, lounging in her usual night time attire of a tank top, but instead of baggy pants like usual, it was loose shorts. She put down her tea when he knocked on the door. When it opened, her mouth was slightly gaping, but closing slowly at the sight of him barely holding himself up against the threshold.

His face was covered in specks of dried blood and dirt, and his hair was probably in the same condition. Holes were open and exposing the burns in his uniform, and he panted slightly from the struggle to get to her floor. Even when slouching against the threshold, he was still towering over her smaller self. Their gaze was locked until her eyes traveled over himself to see the red swollen skin on his arms and legs, and stomach.

She heard long ago, that love is true when the other is in need, and no words are needed to be said for you to know what they need. And you just know, and do it. How true it was to this day.

Her gaze quickly returned to his. His eyes were bloodshot and the veins were more visible. Although she knew it would sting his burns, she embraced him fully. He fell into her figure as she held him. It hurt on his skin, but inside he was joyously celebrating to be in her touch. She brought him inside slowly, and shut the door behind him. He leaned more into her touch, and she returned it. Forgetting for a moment of the singeing skin on his back. When he hissed at the contact, she brought him up from her. She examined his face again, and she knew the pain was excessive.

She gently brought him through the apartment, and into her bathroom. A dark colored shower took up the whole side of the room. When she opened the door to it, and turned on the cold water, the concern of her own clothes getting wet was internally forgotten. And then she returned to him, dripping a bit.

He locked his gaze with hers as she as she could, removed his singed clothes. His eyes clenched with his jaw when the fabric would pass over his swollen skin. She softly apologized quickly, and he knew she would prevent it completely if possible. So he sucked it up, and let her remove his layers. Soon he was in nothing but his boxers. He didn't care at this point, all he cared about was Korra's soft hands running cold water on his burns, making them disappear.

She had him step over into the cold water, and as she closed the shower door, he dipped his head under the shower head. His hair flowed down his forehead as the cold water trailed down his skin. It burned again like the flames at first, but soon the affects of the temperature came, and relief started to arrive.

She slowly rubbed her thumb in circles on his shoulder blade, as the water ran down his skin. He turned to her, now dripping in water. She still locked their gaze, her eyes still soft and concerned looking up at him. He came closer, and leaned his forehead on hers. Neither cared about the water. She would be as drenched as he would soon, and it mattered nothing to her.

Then her glance went to the floor. He knew what it meant. He had to sit down for her to heal him. He did so, after she grabbed a stool she kept in there, for him to sit under the shower head. She did it because she wanted him to be comfortable, but also so she could still reach his body parts without having to adjust so much.

She started with his back. Although the water was crisp, her hands were still as soft and warm as he remembered. Same with his arms and legs. And then his chest. She was gentle as she healed the pink skin on his toned stomach. The entire she faced him, their gaze was still locked. And when her hand slowly slid up his chest, to feel the beating heart under his skin, his hand met hers, and folded their fingers together there. And then he brought her hands, in both of his, and kissed her knuckles, as if to thank her. But she wasn't done. His hair was still filled with dirt and dried blood.

All she had was her own shampoo to clean it. As she gently massaged his scalp, their gaze still locked. Her short hair stuck to her neck, and his stuck back to his forehead when she rinsed it. Her hands had caressed his neck, while his pooled at her waist, wrapping around her. Pulling her closer. And finally, his words broke the silence between them.

"Thank you…", he whispered. But what he said next, had her shocked. "Love…"

He used to call her that in heart felt moments when they were together. And ones filled lust too. But here, he did it out of instinct. But her kiss, and falling into his lap, was intentional. Their tongues met as their arms wrapped tighter around each other, under the cold water. All of their past mistakes. All of the yelling, the screaming, the tears, the sadness, the pain, everything they thought that prevented them from loving each other, it all seemed to wash away.


End file.
